Ordinary language is all right.
One could divide humanity into two classes:
those who master a metaphor, and those who hold by a formula.
Those with a bent for both are too few, they do not comprise a class.
Two moral phenomena:
1. The reluctance of someone accused, and acknowledged, to be guilty of doing something wrong, to refer to their wrong by name, to identify it as a wrong. (Dodges and evasions continue to tempt: 'what I did', 'when I did that'.)
2. The defining, fateful aspect a single action takes on, in all one's later life and reflection on life, when that action was the commission of a serious wrong. (Compare to all the other actions, not even necessarily rising to the level of deeds, which are done and forgotten in the course of living.)
'One could divide humanity into two classes: those who master a metaphor, and those who hold by a formula. Those with a bent for both are too few, they do not comprise a class.'
'our task is and remains above all not to mistake ourselves for others'
'for we must not make a man our friend against his will'
'It is useful to have examined in how many ways a word is said both for the sake of clarity (for someone would better know what it is he is conceding once it had been brought to light in how many ways the term is applied) and in order to make our deductions concern the thing itself rather than being about a word. For when it is unclear in how many ways something is said, it is possible that the answerer and the questioner are not thinking about the same thing; but once it has been brought to light in how many ways it is applied and which of these the answerer is thinking about in conceding the premiss, the questioner would appear ridiculous if he did not make his argument about this.'
'…the hand is a tool of tools…'
Yesterday, I used my reason to realize two things:
1. Why towns have signs directing people to churches.
2. Why raincoats are long.
(It turns out that just at that moment, the driver and I were on a corner with a sign pointing at the church in question.)
A car drives up to me on the street in Decorah and the driver rolls down his window: 'You wouldn't know where there's a Catholic church in town, would you?'
'I haven't yet figured that out, myself.'